Fast Freddy Flatlips & His Screaming Horn of Love
by danceoftheheart
Summary: Fast Freddy made his first appearance in my ABC's of CSI series. Somewhere along the line, he demanded that I write him a sequel. Nearly a year later, he's back and now the star of his own series. Much GSR'ing abounds!
1. F Freddy Flatlips & His Scr Horn of Love

F is for Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screamin' Horn of Love.

_I see you naked and wet  
Your skin soaked and steamin  
And I know I'm getting hot  
From the heat you're bringing  
And my body's calling yours  
Crying and a'screaming  
Lay your skin on top of mine  
I gotta feed my demon_

With this Screamin' Horn of Love  
Now don't you want it?  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
It's ripe for the tastin'  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
Gettin' wilder by the second  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
Time's a'wastin'…

I was walking out of the bedroom, towel drying my hair when I heard it. I leaned over the banister and called down to the living room. "Gil? What the hell? Where did you find that?"

"At the bottom of the stuff you brought over from your apartment." He held up a case that depicted a silhouette of a man leaning against a saxophone that was twice his size. "I was curious. This…this is just awful, Sara."

"I know," I muttered, coming all the way down the steps. "I thought I got rid of it a long time ago. Freddy might have been a good kisser but he was a horrible singer."

From his seat in front of the fire, Gil glanced up at me, eyebrows raised. "Freddy?" With that tone and his glasses slid forward to the bridge of his nose, Gil reminded me of a professor I had at Berkeley. Very unamused. He removed the liner notes and unfolded them until he found a picture of the singer. "I take it this is Freddy Fatass?"

I leaned over his shoulder. "_Flatlips_," I corrected him with a glare. "Yeah, that's him. Fast Freddy Flatlips."

"Sounds like a unique individual."

"Oh, he was that. Thought he was a musician too." I winced as the _singer_ in question hit an _unusual_ note in the melodic train of the song.

"And just where did you meet Mr. _Fatlips_?"

"Flatlips," I repeated with a smart-assed smirk. "At Harvard. He used to play this club that my friends and I would go to all the time. We got to be regulars there."

"I thought you said he couldn't sing?"

"He couldn't. Couldn't play either for that matter. And you just heard his one, 'hit'. Not much to recommend him in any musical aspect."

"Then why did you keep going back?"

"They had great onion rings and wicked shot specials. When we wanted a cheap night with good food and enough liquor to make us nice and happy, we went to Marco's Pub. Besides, it was within walking distance of the campus." I smiled happily to myself, remembering the nights that my friends and I had closed the place. "Besides, once you had a couple of rounds in you, his talents sort of grew on you."

"I see. And how exactly did you ascertain what kind of kisser he was?"

"Ascertain? So clinical, Gil! Is it that hard to ask me outright?"

"Yes."

I chuckled. "Points for honesty. Freddy was the owner's nephew. Most of the time you'd walk in and see him behind the bar slinging drinks but late Saturday night, he popped out from the counter and took over the dinky little stage in the corner of the pub, pretending to be this misunderstood artist who's music was way ahead of his time. People gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was a pretty decent guy with an attractive face and sad eyes. He had a friend at a local studio put this sampler together. He sent them out to major labels and sold them at the bar at five bucks a shot."

"Still not seeing the connection between the between this guy moaning on the stereo and you being an expert on how he kissed."

"Okay...are you sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm waiting with bated breath."

I shot him an amused glance. "Fine. I'll tell you all of the gory details and then we'll get into that little scene you had going with Terry."

That made him jump. "Terry Miller? What made you bring her up?"

"Probably the same thing that started you down this road; a morbid fascination with lovers in your past."

His denial was swift and sure. "Terry Miller and I were not lovers. Hell, we couldn't even make it through dinner without getting interrupted."

"Really? Not the impression I got from the gossip mill at the lab. Freddy and I never made it to the lovers stage either…but he was responsible for me getting this." I lifted my robe and displayed a fine lined scar that sat just above my left hipbone. At Grissom's jerk of alarm I hastened to explain. "Let me start at the beginning. Remember Ken? Ken Fuller?"

"Ken Fuller, Boston to Miami flight, Spring Break 1993, Mile high club, Ken Fuller? Yeah. Vaguely." Grissom's words were so dry they were coated with dust.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes, that's the one. I dated Ken for a little over a year…fourteen months or so…and never really had another steady boyfriend until Hank."

Grissom grunted and muttered something like, "Muscleman Hank."

I dropped into his lap and soothed his frown. "Be nice. Just because he's a two-timing jerk is no reason to call him nasty names. Anyway, I did date once in a while and I remember being at Marco's late one night in my third term at Harvard and just a little happier than I usually let myself get. The friends I'd gone with were talking about going on to another place but I just couldn't. I had work the next evening and an exam the following day…it just wouldn't have been the responsible choice, if you get my meaning."

"Been there."

"Yeah. So Freddy was sitting with us at the table. He'd just finished his late set and offered to walk me home. I accepted. He kissed me goodnight, and things got a little heated but in the end, that was all it was. A heated kiss between friends with a little heavy petting. I don't know if it was by fate's design or just a case of always being in the wrong place at the right time but we never hooked up after that. And that's the story of how I was kissed by Fast Freddy Flatlips." I smiled faintly at the memory.

Grissom cleared his throat. "You said he was responsible for the scar on your hip."

"Oh, yeah. Right. He was. We'd almost made it back to the dorm and suddenlythere was this huge patch of ice in front of us."

"You make it sound like it formed before your eyes."

"Gil, we were so far gone it probably could have and not surprised us more than it did. Of course, being the idiots that we were and half bombed as it was, we decided we could cut right across it rather than go around. We wanted to get in out of the cold faster. I was wearing his coat, as I hadn't brought a warmer one with me and it was starting to snow. I slipped, he fell on top of me and the bottle opener with the sharp and dull heads he carried around with him everywhere cut into me nicely on my hip from inside the liner of the jacket. Sliced right through the liner too if I remember correctly. Wasn't deep enough to get stitches but it did scar. So much for the 'early night' I'd intended. I ended up at emergency getting a tetanus shot and first aid. Still got an 'A' on the exam though." The first track on the cd had ended and the second one was into its intro before I realized what was playing. It took me a moment to make the connection in my brain and then I muttered, "Oh crap."

"What?"

"Don't listen." I tried to get off his lap to stop it but he held me firm as a female voice carried the descant melody through the speakers.

I opened my mouth to protest but he shook me off. "Shhhh!" he muttered when I tried to get up again and I gave in and sat there with my arms crossed trying to avoid his gaze. I suffered through the whole two minutes and thirty six seconds of the track, trying to think of something to say to but, well, words failed me. It wasn't like the vocal was bad. Actually, it sounded pretty good. The last chorus especially had a nice harmony to it. But it was just that I'd never, ever thought I'd be forced to admit that it was me singing the back-up on this track.

_Songs of silence threaten me  
In greedy, absent tones  
And the darkened sky is blood red in the dawn  
I'm waiting for the promise  
That you make to me each morn  
Knowing that you'll break it and be gone_

This time praying that you'll break it and be gone

He listened intently through the entirety of the song and when it was over was smirking at me.  
"Well…that was interesting. Sounds like you two did more than a little kissing and heavy petting."

I thought about denying it but what was the point? _Was my face as flushed as it felt?_ "Yeah. Um. Yeah."

"It was actually pretty good."

I shrugged my thanks for the compliment, but shook my head. "It was…just something I did…well, see he…oh hell. He'd written this song. And it didn't sound right with just him. He was sitting at our table one night, playing with the melody on his guitar and I finally figured out what was wrong and told him. It needed the harmonic of a female voice to help enhance the melody. And he disagreed and I argued with him for a bit but then sang what I heard in my head and…well…he asked me to record it with him."

"Why are you so embarrassed? I hear you sing around the lab all the time…and here at home. You know you have a good voice."

"I don't know why it gets to me. I told you before that when I sing…I don't even realize I'm doing it. It's just a habit I got into working late at night by myself in the lab. I just can't think about people listening, you know. Just makes me cringe." I laughed at myself. "I discovered soon after I did that recording that I had as much a problem listening to myself as I did letting anyone else hear me."

"What made you finally agree to do it?"

"Freddy," I all but sighed. "Told you he could kiss. But I insisted that he keep the identity of the singer on that track to himself."

"That was a little foolish. What if he'd gone on to be a big star?"

I rolled my eyes. "Please. Give me some credit. There was little chance of that. Besides, I didn't sign away my rights or anything. I'm simply not listed on the cd cover. Wait…well, actually I am…sort-of." I flipped to the right page and found the artist information credits for each of the tracks. "See. That's me."

"'The Girl from the Bar'?"

"Yes. I even got royalties on sales. Freddy sent me a check of twenty-nine dollars and sixty-eight cents just before I left Boston. You know, I do wonder what he's been doing lately. I haven't heard anything from him in a long time."

Gil grunted. "You're smiling again."

I blinked at him, all innocence. "What? Am I?"

Instead of answering, he lowered his head and started kissing me senseless. A soft groan slid past my lips as his body curled around mine and pulled me closer. I arched into him, a cat aching to be stroked, and he responded by slipping a hand into my robe, letting it travel unhurriedly over my skin. I felt like purring.

My arms slid up slowly around his neck, my fingers burrowing into his hair as his mouth played mine like an instrument in the hands of an artist. It was luscious and rich and so heady that I lost myself in the moment, exploring him as fully as he was exploring me.

When he finally pulled away for some much needed air, he stared down at me, his hand still moving on my skin. I dragged my thumb sensuously across his lower lip, my breath coming in small pants, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear every beat. "Got that out of your system?" I asked, my eyes shining with mischief.

"Not even close," he rasped, his hand traveling lower.

"Good," I told him and bit gently on his earlobe. "You owe me."

"How's that?"

I pulled back at his tone of mild surprise and gave him a mock pout. "Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love have lost all appeal for me. Now what do I fantasize about?"

His eyes flashed with wicked humor. "Let me show you," he growled, and did just that.

A/N: Lyrics for _Screaming Horn of Love_ and _Songs of Silence_ are mine. No recognized musicians or lyricists were harmed in the making of this fanfic.


	2. FFF & HSHOL:Surrender to the Beast

GSR (though Freddy should get some credit cause he's certainly there in spirit if not in flesh)

A/N: This is a continuation of a piece that is part of my ABC's of CSI series. I figured Freddy deserved another swing at the batter's plate in a more-ahem-adult piece. Do you need to read the other one first? Maybe not because hey, this is smut and the plot is pretty straight forward, but it would be good for a laugh. Once again, I'm embarrassed to say, the lyrics for Screaming Horn of Love are mine. What's worse is I added another verse or two. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Oh, and please note, this version is edited to comply with the rules on this site. If you are of age and would like to read the complete adult version you may visit me at .

_Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love: Surrender to the Beast._

"You're doing it again."

"What?" Chop. Chop. Chop.

"You know very well what." A few minutes later. "Gil!"

"What is your problem?" Chop. Chop. Chop.

"Currently you!" I glared at him. "I'm trying to read this file. This case goes to court in the morning." At his blank look I blew out an incredulous breath. "You don't even realize you're doing it, do you?"

"Doing what? I'm chopping vegetables." Chop. Chop. Chop.

"And humming that damn song. You're driving me nuts."

"Was I humming?"

"Gil!"

Even though he was the one with the knife, he held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Okay, I'll stop. At least I'll try to stop. And you probably have that file memorized. Here," he tossed a freshly peeled carrot in my direction. "Supper's going to be a while yet."

I snacked on the carrot, growling under my breath. He was right. I did have the file memorized but I was nervous about stepping into a court room after being off the job for a while and re-reading it over and over was a way to try and control that fear. Still, I was tightly wound and Gil's unconscious musical interludes were not helping. Things were quiet for a few minutes and then the pattern started again. First the rhythmic chopping, then the humming and whistling through his teeth. Well, he did say 'try'. To bad he didn't succeed. What's worse is the humming turned to a low-breathed, tuneless singing which I really wouldn't have minded if only he'd chosen another song to riff on.

"Screamin' horn of love… (chop chop chop)...now don't you need it…horn of love…(chop chop chop)…it's a demon…"

"Gil." He kept on going. The temptation to throw my file at him was almost too much to bear. "Gil!"

"Yes, Sara, my love?"

I groaned and buried my head in the pillows. "If you have to sing it, at least get the words right!"

"I don't know the words and since you hid the cd there's little likelihood of me ever learning it, so we may have a problem in that regard."

"I hid the cd because somebody decided to invite Nick and Greg over last night to watch the ballgame and I didn't want them accidentally coming across it. Honestly, Gil, they'd never let me live it down. What I don't get is why you're singing it at all."

"It's, um, got a catchy tune."

"Yes, but overall, it's a terrible song."

He chuckled at himself. "That doesn't seem to matter."

"Since when?"

"Since I heard it."

"Wait a minute. You're not looking me in the eye. What gives?"

"Nothing," he replied but that sly little smirk of his said different. However, it didn't seem as he was ready to share yet so I rolled my eyes at him.

"Right. Nothing." I rustled the file and tried to read a complete sentence but it was no use. Chop. Chop. Chop. "Great," I muttered, "now you've got it spinning through my head." I walked to the corner desk and pulled a cd from the drawer and shoved it into the player. A few electric chords flared and then settled into an edgy bass line. Throbbing backing tones filled the room and then my ex duet partner/friendly bartender/casual kisser's voice rippled from the speakers.

_I see you naked and wet  
Your skin soaked and steamin  
And I know I'm getting hot  
From the heat you're bringing_

I shook my head, wincing at the almost out of tune phrasing and turned back to Gil with a comment but stopped dead. My _if it isn't opera it isn't music, not at all impressed by the current pop-culture scene even if he did know who the hell everyone was, vegetable chopping_ husband was practically bopping to the beat as he diced celery with a practiced hand. Okay, well, maybe 'bopping' was stretching things a little far but there was definitely some hip action going on. I have to say the sight of Gil moving his groove thing was something to behold. Did more for me that anything Freddy ever did, including that damn kiss of his. I grinned wickedly, waiting for him to look up and catch me watching. It didn't take long.

_  
And my body's calling yours  
Crying and a'screaming  
Lay your skin on top of mine  
I gotta feed my demon_

Freddy growled the lyrics through the speakers and I stalked my husband in a low swung, hippy gait that made him drop the knife to the counter so he could give me his full attention. He didn't stop singing, in fact if anything, he slipped even further into the act. It was a bit bizarre seeing Gil warp into a hairband wannabe but I went with it for fear I'd never see it again. When I got close enough to touch him he suddenly reached out and plastered my hips to his groin, his arm braced in my lower back, and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

With this Screamin' Horn of Love  
Now don't you want it?  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
It's ripe for the tastin'  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
Gettin' wilder by the second  
My Screamin' Horn of Love  
Time's a'wastin'…

Gil was getting hard; every grind of his hips creating a magnetizing friction that I felt in my very core. He slipped a hand down my back, finding my heat, stoking that furnace until I wanted to strip away every layer of clothing between us and fall naked to the tiles. But apparently, Gil had other plans. With a swipe of his hand he cleared the counter, sending stems and stalks skating across the kitchen and then hoisted me up onto the counter's edge. Nightdress riding my hips, breath coming in shallow gasps, I held onto the counter with everything in me as he spread my knees apart…farther…and farther…until I couldn't go anymore.

_Lover crawl across the sheets,_

_Set my nerves a quaking,_

_It's only for tonight_

_No promises I'm making_

He bent, caressing me intimately and I moaned, gut-wrenching, primal noises in desperate tones.

_Come on, share a little lust_

_With a man who's close to breaking_

_I want to take your soul_

_Give your earth a little shaking_

My hands reached out for purchase, finding his shoulders and clutching at them with a helpless kneading. He sank into me, with a rumble of contentment.

_With this Screaming Horn of Love_

_Come on there's no denying_

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_It wants to take you flying_

Soon there was nothing but his tongue and his lips and ohhhhohhhhhhgodddddddd!

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_It's hungry and it's yearning_

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_Wants to feel you burning..._

I burst into flames, falling apart in so many pieces it took me more than a few breaths to come to my senses.

Gil's mouth met mine. We lost ourselves in the instrumental. I became the guitar, Gil my musician, working my body like taut strings until it sang for him and only him. And just as I hit the crescendo, just as I reached the peak, his mouth swooped down once more and devoured mine, taking me to the edge, but not over.

Everything stopped. For a long moment he just held me, our hearts pounding in rhythm. My whole body was one big nerve. The blood rushed in my ears and my head swam at the sudden cessation of love-making. But before I could protest, before I could think his lips left mine to explore more of my skin. He nipped, he tasted, leaving wet, hot trails across my breasts and stomach, only to return to my neck to retrace the pattern. I writhed restlessly on the counter, my body no longer mine but his as he layered me in need and drove me insane with want. I could feel him straining not to thrust, holding back with everything in him until he reached the end of his strength and he pulled me into him. His mouth continued to plunder, his hips continued to thrust until my body worked its way into a frenzy once more. This time there was no holding back as we rode the torrent of desire to its completion, screaming out our release in the throws of desire. The coda was shattering, the surrender complete and we clutched each other mutely until it drained from us.

"Well, one thing's for certain," I muttered, "I'm not nervous anymore."

"Good to know," Gil rumbled back weakly.

"Exhausted yourself, have you?"

"Yes," he said smugly, justifiably proud of his performance.

I buried my face in his shoulder and snickered wickedly. "You devil!" I whispered harshly into his skin. "You set me up." His answering chuckle was all the confirmation I needed to be certain I'd guessed the truth behind this little game of his. "Jealous much?"

"No," my husband said contentedly, "not any more." He dropped a kiss onto my forehead before scooping me off the counter. His grin got even wider when I stumbled slightly as I adjusted to being vertical again. Mind you, he bumped into the cabinets as he trailed me out of the kitchen so I was able to forgive his little show of conceit.

We got as far as the sofa when I turned to him and pulled him into my arms. "Are you okay?"

He was all hands. "Sara, I'm just fine."

"Gil. Gil…stop that. I'm trying, dammit, that tickles…cripes. Listen." I combed my fingers through his hair. "No, seriously. This thing with Freddy. There's no competition here, you know. He's just a person I knew a long time ago. Before I met you."

"I realize that but...sometimes...I couldn't get that song out of my head! And I kept seeing you kissing some faceless...it was juvenile and stupid but you know what? I had to do something."

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yes."

"Well, okay then. I guess this little...ahem...interlude can be chalked up to a, ah, therapeutic episode." I gave him a final squeeze and started to pull away, but Gil held me fast.

"Or a blistering, lust-induced round of really hot sex." His mouth found mine and encouraged me to play a bit longer.

Somewhere I found the breath to gasp back. "Yeah. That works too."


	3. FFF&HSHOL:Dancing with the Demon Pt I

_A/N: Freddy and his Sreaming Horn of Love is fast becoming his own series. Our flatlipped friend makes a return in this, the third installment. Though this piece fits nicely into my Jungle series it could seriously be considered an episode all on its own. Jealous, drunken smut abounds. Smut. Don't you just love saying that word? Smut…Smut…Smut…has such a nice ring to it. Oh, right, the story. Okay. I'll stop talking now. Go on. You can read it. Not another word from me. Nope. Notta. None. Zip. Zilch even. Okay. I'm done. Seriously. Finsihed. Okay then. _

Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love: Dancing with the Demon

Nick and Mandy's wedding was a small private affair.

For several personal reasons (relatives' health, work demands and related affairs) they had opted to have a civil service in Vegas to make things official followed by a larger ceremony and reception with all the trimmings at Nick's parents' residence in Texas in the fall. And despite the fact that all of their co-workers had an open invitation to attend the larger function in October, many of us were concerned that something unexpected would come up to prevent us from going so we made sure to make an appearance at the first nuptials just in case. Hey, you never knew if someone would have the poor taste to die just when the happy couple was cutting their wedding cake.

Vows were made, bubbles blown and two very good friends were united by a kindly justice of the peace. It was all very sweet, and simple and elegant and let's face it folks, in Las Vegas that was quite an accomplishment.

I suppose we could have let the happy couple get down to the business of 'honeymooning' but what kind of friends would we have been if we didn't guilt them into having a few drinks to celebrate the blessed event! Besides, Gil and I had come a long way to play witness and since there was a good possibility it would several months before we got the opportunity to see some of these people again we decided to make a night of it. So, after a lot of good-natured teasing and a little 'friendly' pressure, a good sized group of us ended up in a casino lounge on the strip. We slipped into an oversized booth (okay, more like SQUEEZED) and proceeded to wish Nick, Mandy, ourselves (and frankly anyone else in the vicinity) 'happy'!

"And that's the end of another one," I snickered as I upended our current bottle of champagne and plunked it back down on the table. I raised my glass, only spilling a teeny, tiny mouthful in the process and saluted the bride and groom. "Here's to the happily-um-happily ever after married and conjoined couple. A fairy-tale in the making if ever I saw one. We knew it was love from day one. Too bad it took them eight years to figure it out." Several snorts and chuckles met my toast but none refused to drink. "To Nicky-boy and Mandy the Magnificent!"

"Here here!" Greg seconded, raising his own glass, and promptly fell out off the end of the bench. He scrambled his way off the floor, his glass still remarkably full and said, "Here, even," before clinking glasses with the groom and his bride. "Will you guys move the hell over?"

Others joined in on the toast, ignoring his request for more space like the evil humans we were, and partied on. We were all a little on the tipsy side and despite the fact that I could usually hold more than my share of the bubbly, I hadn't thought to ask for a pitcher of water when I'd started so my head was starting to feel the effects as much as everyone else. We all had a good buzz going. Most of us were two sheets to the wind and still descending the flag pole of sobriety, but so far no one beyond the bounds of what was acceptable for such an auspicious occasion. We were just a very…very…happy, and admittedly, slightly loud, company of celebrants, eagerly escorting our newly wed friends on their way to married bliss.

Jim Brass was seated to Greg's left so he tossed out another toast. "Here's an oldie but a goodie," he promised, gesturing with his glass and dribbling some champagne down the front of Catherine's shirt. She didn't even react. She was probably too numb to feel it. "'May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sunshine be warm upon your face'…except when you're trying to sleep 'cause that can be friggin' annoying. To Nick and Mandy." Cheering resounded.

Catherine sniffed. "Ah, Jim, that was beautiful. Just beautiful." She draped an arm over his shoulder. "Wish you'd been at my wedding to Eddy. Said that blessing. Maybe Eddy and me would still be together."

Brass shook his head, leaning into her just as hard. "Bastard cheated on you and skinned you financially."

Catherine gave a harsh nod of her head. "Right. Forgot."

"It's a blessing…not…not a-a magic wand."

"Right. Thanks for clearing that-that up." She slapped him on the back and then addressed the table. "Okay. My turn. Advice. No stupid quotes…just good solid advice from one who's been there, okay?"

Mandy and Nick nodded, each of them laughing so hard, it was beyond them to form a verbal response.

Catherine cleared her throat and stood saying, "Going to bed mad? Don't do it. Sucks. Sleeping with your secretary or the really hot new guy in Trace? Wrong. Don't do it. Sucks. Posing naked for Playboy? Don't do it. Sucks. Betting your rent money on a horse that's two trots away from the glue factory? Don't do it. Sucks…bigtime. Ummm…wait…what was I doing here?" She wove unbalanced from foot to foot as she frowned into her glass.

"You're giving advice to the married couple," Greg said, helpfully.

"And you better finish up before you end up in their laps," Jim added, as he corrected her near decent into his.

"Oh. Right. Okay. Marriage. What can I say about marriage? Marriage is work. Good marriage…lots of work. Gotta work at it. Everyday. 'Cause if you don't work, you'll be unemployed and no one can work with an unemployed marriage. Got it?" She paused for breath long enough for them to nod in stupefied agreement. "Good. To the gride and broom!"

"Gride and Broom!" Greg howled and fell off the end of the bench again. This time though, he stayed where he was, giggling, which worked in our favor as we had one less body on an overcrowded bench. We shifted space heartlessly and made ourselves more comfortable. When he realized what we'd done, Greg tottered over to a nearby table and stole one of their chairs. The couple who had been occupying that table, now one chair less, would be in for a little surprise when they came off the dance floor but that didn't seem to bother Greg in the least.

Gil, always at the ready with a perfect quote for every situation, took his turn and said, "'Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.'" And then he grinned, this beatific, eye-crinkling smile while the rest of us snorted champagne through our noses.

"What-what-" I gasped, choking on my own laughter, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"People have been asking that very thing for centuries, Sara, my love. It's the bard, you know. Shakespook himself. Deep meanings. Many layers." He toasted the room. "Just like Bugs Bunny…and Marvin the Machine."

"Martian, Gil." Greg corrected him from his purloined chair but since Gil had started dosing on his hand, I doubt he heard him. "Marvin was a Martian," Greg told the table importantly.

"Jerimiah was a bullfrog," Jim offered helpfully.

"Where the hell is my shoe?" Greg wheezed, practically upending himself again.

In the midst of the newest explosion of manic laughter, I was about to make a guess but just then the lights lowered in the lounge and a spotlight flared. It hit the tiny stage in front of us, making the curtains glow an warm amber and we cheered. "A show! We get a show!" Catherine said excitedly. "Anyone know who's playing?"

"There was something on the board out in the F-Foyer," Jim said. "Singer I think. Flashy Freddy Flips or something like that."

I choked on my drink. Something about that sounded unsettling familiar. "What was that, Jim? Who's playing?" I glanced uneasily at Gil. He was still snoring. So far, I was in the clear.

"Freddy something or other. Has a screaming horn…" Brass replied with a shrug, totally disinterested in the whole conversation. "Where's the men's room?"

"In the corner," I told him, suddenly a lot more sober than I had been a few seconds ago. Jim stood up to leave but I caught hold of his jacket. "Fast Freddy Flatlips?" I asked with a sense of impending doom.

"Yeah. Maybe. Though I think there was a fish somewhere in there. Fishlips? Freddy Fishlips! Cripes, I don't know. Catherine, I'd try to climb over you but really…not a good idea, love." He dropped a really sloppy, messy kiss on her cheek. "Move it or be roadkill."

"UUUggghhh! Next time I get the middle seat, Jim!" She inched out and let him through. "Now hush! The show's going to start."

And she was right, the lights had dimmed completely so that the single spotlight that glared exceedingly bright against the blue velvet curtains of the stage area. An announcer came over the speakers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, for your dining pleasure, please welcome our feature performer, fresh from his European Tour, Fast Freddy Flatlips and His Screaming Horn of Love." There was a smattering of polite applause (not to mention some outright hooting and hollering from Catherine) and then a lanky, puppy-dog eyed, saxophone player ambled out on stage and struck a pose.

"Shit. Shit shit shit!" I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, Sara?" Greg asked in an overloud voice.

"Nothing," I told him. "Look at the time. Gil's falling asleep. We should prob-"

"SHHHHHH!" Catherine hissed. "I want to hear this."

So much for leaving, I groused silently. Oh well, we were at the back of the lounge. The likelihood of Freddy spotting me was pretty slim and since Gil wasn't really paying attention to anything there was a good possibility that I'd be able to sit through the set and take him home right after. No one the wiser. Yep. That sounded pretty good to me. Okay. I poured myself another glass of champagne and proceeded to try to turn myself invisible.

The audience fell quiet, waiting for his opening notes and he let the silence grow for a good forty seconds before he drew in a breath and blew into his horn. A blast of noise, the likes of which I'm sure no one expected to hear boomed the bowl of the sax, closely followed by several more. Some notes were bearable but others were no more than discordant squeaks. This went of for several minutes; the 'melody' of the song changing constantly, going hard and soft at whim, leaving the lot of us paralyzed by the display.

When the last note sounded its bitter wail of a screech I think most of us were so shell-shocked we applauded from pure relief. Everyone that is except Catherine. She jumped to her feet and gave Freddy a standing ovation, entreating him to play an encore.

Freddy, for his part, accepted the audience reaction with a nod and pushed his tinted sunglasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he waited for it to stop. When the audience was once again quiet, he leaned into the microphone and practically whispered, "Thank you. That's my latest composition entitled, 'Traffic Jam and the Bitter taste of Pain'. You can find that track and my other intellectually challenging experiments in harmonious discord on my latest CD, "Counter-Space and Other Modern Mental Appliances,' on sale in the lobby after the show." As he was speaking, the curtain opened behind him and three musicians joined him on stage. While he spoke, they adjusted mics and instruments in preparation for the next song. Keyboards, drums and bass guitar were poised and at the ready but they could have been statues for all the attention Freddy directed at them. "And now, I'd like to take you back in time to one of the first songs I ever wrote." Freddy paused to blow a few mournful notes on his horn and I cringed and slid a little farther under the table. It was more than obvious what was coming next. "Screaming Horn of Love," Freddy rasped into the microphone and gave the nod to begin.

_I see you naked and wet_

_Your skin soaked and steamin _

_And I know I'm getting hot_

_From the heat you're bringing_

_And my body's calling yours_

_Crying and a'screaming_

_Lay your skin on top of mine_

_I gotta feed my demon_

You have no idea how grateful I was for the dim lighting in the lounge. I'm sure my face was blood red as memories from the last time I'd heard this particular song flooded my brain. What's more, Freddy's song – that cheesy, adolescent, wet dream of a song – was having a rather um…shocking effect on my entire body. You would think I would have been wayyyy too drunk to react as I did to the lyrics and the throbbing under beat but…truthfully…I was hot as hell! I wanted a man…correction, my man…in a very, very bad way. I glanced at my partner and sighed. From the looks of things, Gil was out of commission for the rest of the night. Damn.

_With this Screamin' Horn of Love_

_Now don't you want it?_

_My Screamin' Horn of Love_

_It's ripe for the tastin'_

_My Screamin' Horn of Love_

_Gettin' wilder by the second_

_My Screamin' Horn of Love_

_Time's a'wastin'…_

It was killing me…seriously killing me…being forced to sit there and pretend to be normal like everyone else. All I could think was, 'Thank god! The instrumental. We're at the halfway point now. Not much longer. Just have to wait it out.' I tried to block the sensations by mentally reciting the Periodic Table in my head but really, I just couldn't concentrate. The music kept interrupting my thoughts and in the end I had to give up.

It was just about then that I realized that the song wasn't playing out quite the way I remembered. Freddy had apparently decided to extend this section for this performance and while his backup band kept the baseline going he wailed away on his saxophone in a fairly decent run of improvised jazz riffs. The first part of this was sharp and hard but then he let his sax sound mellow out and slipped into a sexy, sultry, swinging version of the original that I had to admit I really enjoyed.

So there I was, listening contentedly to the interesting interpretation Freddy was delivering when all of sudden, my husband pulled up from his sleepy pose on the edge of the table and curled into my side. In an overloud, slightly slurred voice he said, "Sara, turn off the CD. I'm too drunk to have sex in the kitchen!"


	4. FFF&HSHOL:Dancing with the Demon PT II

Fast Freddy Flatlips and his Screaming Horn of Love, Dancing with the Demon

Part II

OH

MY

GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Nobody heard him, right? The music was too loud, right? I could open my eyes and pretend nothing happened, because no one was reacting and that meant they couldn't have heard him, right?

Wrong.

I opened my eyes and peeked around.

My husband's words had apparently turned the entire group to stone…temporarily…and I could see it would be only a matter of seconds before the reaction would set it.

As if on cue, my whole table erupted with laughter and pointedly teasing remarks.

"Way to go, Grissman!"

"You have his cd?"

"He's always been a role model for me."

It was embarrassing, it was hilarious, it was obnoxious but…most of all, it was LOUD. Very loud. Loud enough to attract the attention of the people at our neighboring tables. Loud enough to earn us dirty looks from the wait-staff of the lounge. Loud enough in fact to carry all the way across that tiny lounge to the stage where I realized belatedly that Freddy and his crew were now standing impatiently as my table carried on.

And since the absolute last thing I wanted in the world was to bring any further attention to myself I did the cowardly thing and slumped in my seat. I prayed to whatever deity that happened to be listening at that moment that someone would get up the nerve to eject us from the lounge.

No such luck.

Hey, this was Vegas. Tolerance for the type of disruption we were creating went pretty high.

Freddy, my one time duet partner and…lord help me…kissing crush suddenly stopped mid note and yelled out, "SPOT! SPOT! That table over there! In the back. SPOT!" The last command seemed to be the charm as we were suddenly bombarded with an inhumanly wide beam of illumination from the barrel canister light in the corner of the lounge. The light had the instantaneous effect of making proverbial deer out of my friends. As for me, I would have given a year of my life for that damn cloak of invisibility that bespectacled half-pint magician carted around in those Harry Potter books. All eyes were definitely focused on us and since my lover's hand had started a very…um…interesting exploration of my skin under the cover of the tablecloth I was very much afraid that they were going to get a show of much more x-rated nature than anyone had bargained for.

Like nails on a squeaky clean blackboard, Freddy's voice suddenly cut through the air. "Hey, you lot! We're in the middle of a show now. Do you mind shutting the fuck up and letting us get on?" Gone was the husky rasp Freddy had been sporting and in its place was some mutilated imitation of a Liverpool Britt.

My jaw dropped in shock. _That was new,_ I thought to myself as I eye-measured the distance between the door and me. _Who the hell did Freddy think he was? The reincarnation of John Lennon? _

I would have laughed outright but I was suddenly distracted as Gil's voice sounded from the depths of his folded arms, "…screaming horn of love, now don't you want it!" Up went the table again in a cackling riot of voices! From a critical viewpoint, Gil's imitations of Freddy's croon wasn't half bad but from a personal one…well, let's just say I could have lived quite happily without discovering my lover was a talented mimic. What's worse is that Gil didn't stop there. No, buoyed by applause and cheers, Gil raised his head and rasped out the entire next verse:

_Lover crawl across the sheets,_

_Set my nerves a quaking,_

_It's only for tonight_

_No promises I'm making_

_Come on, share a little lust_

_With a man who's close to breaking_

_I want to take your soul_

_Give your earth a little shaking_

Instead of being insulted, Freddy was delighted. "A FAN!" he crowed, stripping off his guitar and tripping off the miniscule stage. "Go on man, take it. Take it!" he shouted with the air of a King commanding a lowly court jester. "Take it!"

Do I need to tell you Gil took it? Well, just in case, yes, he took it. Took it and ran.

So there I was, doing my best to become one with the tacky upholstery of the padded booth while my former college crush and my current boyfriend ground out the lyrics for the chorus complete with 'air' fingering of imaginary saxophone accompaniment.

_With this Screaming Horn of Love_

_Come on there's no denying_

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_It wants to take you flying_

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_It's hungry and it's yearning_

_My Screaming Horn of Love_

_Wants to feel you burning..._

By the end of the chorus, bad knees not withstanding, Gil had hoisted himself off the bench and had switched to 'air guitar' accompanied by the occasional explicit hip roll.

I was utterly dazed. Transfixed. I mean really, the whole world could have come to an end and I'm not a hundred percent sure I would have noticed. Mind you, nor would have anyone else. Considering the mood everyone was in, it was no real surprise that my table had jumped to their feet and were cheering their former boss on at the tops of their lungs. What's more, others had joined in from the other tables and everyone was having a whale of a time. So you know, I figured…what the hell, and joined in. I mean it would have looked odd if I hadn't, right? Right. Freddy was standing only a few feet from me, but believe me, his attention was totally centred on the Gil's antics so I rocked it out with the rest of them.

The song came to an inevitable conclusion of guitar riffing and saxophone trilling and the expected explosive blast from all instruments and everyone cheered. Yes, even me, because stupidly, I'd figured Freddy would shake Gil's hand or something and then head back to the stage like any normal egomaniac would. Yes, in a perfect world, that's exactly what would have happened and Freddy would have done the rest of his set, and I would have poured my lover into a taxi and we would have driven off down the strip. Yep. Yep. Sure.

What? You didn't think I was going to get off that easily, did you? If you did, you obviously have not been paying very close attention to the whim of fate…and her peculiar sense of humor when it comes to my life and the running of it.

No, Freddy, who when I knew him never said more than five words in an entire night other than when singing, suddenly wanted to spark up a conversation. Five guesses as to who he wanted to speak to. Don't need five? Okay, how about one?

"Alright, mate! Alright! Brilliant! I never would have guessed it. Not to look at you. Just goes to show music has no bounds, right? Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant."

Gil was still taking bows so I'm not sure how much he heard. The crowd was still a little rowdy. Sensing he needed to gain back the audience, Freddy signaled for a mic. His next question was much more audible. "Tell me friend, where'd you come across my song?"

"I have it at home," Gil slurred into the mic. "I have it on CD."

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" Freddy shouted back, with delight. "On my compilation CD?"

Gil, who had climbed back onto the bench beside me, shook his head as he made a swipe at his beer bottle. "No. Original."

"What was that mate?"

Gil gulped some of his beer greedily. "I have a copy of your original CD."

Freddy nodded. "Oh, you mean the one we produced in Boston?" Then he laughed. "I guess that makes you one of the three people that bought that one, heh mate?"

Gil laughed, but shook his head again, waving to emphasize his point. "Hell, no. Didn't pay for it. I said I…well, actually, my girlfriend has the original. The first one. The one where all the others came from."

Freddy looked blank, not getting Gil's point. "Sorry, mate. Not following you." He leaned in a little closer, obviously trying to look chummy with Gil for the audience's benefit.

And at this point, I don't know if Gil suddenly realized just who exactly it was that was asking the questions, or if in fact, Freddy was real and not just some voice belting out a corny song on our stereo but…his mouth thinned. And he got this really strange look in his eyes. "Fast Freddy," he muttered…almost growling.

Freddy was amused. "Yeah, mate. That's me. Fast Freddy Flatlips."

"Fatlips," Gil said, his voice getting louder.

"Oh crap," I said, grabbling hold of Gil's arm. "You know what, honey? I'm really tired. I think it's time for us to go home."

Gil didn't hear me. Freddy didn't hear me. They were too busy listening to each other.

"That's Flatlips, mate." As dense as he sometimes was, he was beginning to clue into the fact that Gil was suddenly not as friendly as he was a moment ago.

"Fatlips," Gil repeated, rising. "You stabbed my girlfriend with a bottle opener." And then before anyone could react, Gil hauled back and let his fist fly.


	5. FFF&HSHOL:Dancing with the Demon PT III

Dancing with the Demon

Part III

Sometimes I marvel at the twists and turns life takes. Sometimes it really knocks me for a loop. There I was, sitting in a Las Vegas lounge, watching my ultra conservative boyfriend put on a show to rival any novelty act the strip could produce. Squished between my former lab mates on a bench that had wayyyyy too many butts decorating it, I sat there, cursing the fact that he was drunk and I wasn't able to do anything about it. And then, in literally my next breath, I was thanking the powers that be that he was drunk because the round house swing he made towards Freddy missed by a mile. I cannot tell you just how relieved I was that it did. I so wasn't in the mood to deal with a lawsuit.

Freddy leaned back as Gil's fist swung towards his general direction and then watched my man go down…and down…right to the floor in fact. Gil's lusty battle cry of, "FATLIPS!" died mid-breath as his body connected with the orange plaid industrial carpet. Freddy jaw dropped but otherwise, he made no move at all.

So, Gil went down.

We all gasped and reached for him…trying to break his fall.

We all missed.

We all hustled to his side the second he'd finished his decent but since most of us were almost too tipsy to stand ourselves, getting Gil to his feet took a lot longer than it probably should have.

After steadying a few bodies in my wake, I managed to fight my way into his line of vision. "Gil! Are you okay?"

He blinked at me owlishly and weaved unevenly from his toes to his heels. "Sara?"

I began to check his skull for any sign of a bump or bruise. "Yes. It's me. Are you alright?"

"I-snott-shure," he said, giving his head a shake. "What-what happened?"

"You fell down," I said, giving him the condensed version. I didn't see any head trauma. Hopefully, it was just the effects of the alcohol making him space out and nothing more serious.

"I fell…down?"

"Yes, from the table."

"Table? I was on the table?"

"Yes."

"What-Whatinthehell…hell was I doing on the table?"

For some reason, that question jolted my sarcasm button. "Gee, honey, I was just wondering that myself!"

Eyes twinkling merrily, he missed the edge on my tongue entirely. He actually swaggered a bit as he asked in his bedroom voice. "Were we having sex?"

Greg snorted.

My face flamed. "No, no, you were dancing on it."

"With you?"

"No. Alone."

"Ok. That's strange. Not-not so shurrree I see the point. Is the table okay?"

Confused I looked behind me to stare at the object of his discussion. "I guess so."

"Good," he said, obviously relieved. "Didn't want to have to buy another one. Going broke!"

"Excuse me?" I said, but he didn't hear me.

He turned to Jim and swung an arm over the chief's shoulder. "You know, Jimmmm, 'til I started sleeping with Ssshhhara, I had no idea that sexxxxx was shho expenshhive!"

"Yeah?" Jim asked, all ears. "What? She charge you?"

Gil shook his head and gave Jim a shake for good measure. "No, no, no. Insurance!"

"She makes you buy insurance?" Jim blurted back, almost knocking them both down in the process. "Every time? That would be expensi-ive." A sound belch ended his sentence.

"No! No…I'm talking a-about the house-house insurance. Our premi-prenni-muumms are through the-the ffffrigging roofff."

"House! Roof! Get it!" Greg bellowed, snickering into his latest drink.

"Shut it, Greg," Jim growled before turning back to Gil. "Why's-why's…that?"

" Had to replachhe the chair…an' the patio table…the desk…hell, the bathtub and half the chhheiling ended up in the front room….scared the hell…hell… out of the dog…oh…and the-mmpphhhh-"

It had taken me a moment to catch up but when I did, I clamped my hand over Gil's mouth firmly thus effectively stifling the list of furniture and fixtures we'd broken during our um…more ardent interludes and began to drag him out of there. "Okay, it was wonderful seeing all of you. Great wedding, Nick. Cool dress, Mandy. We'll call before we leave for Resolute Bay!"

"We're-We're leaving?" Gil asked, hanging back and swinging his head around widely.

"Yes."

"The show's over?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said, flinging his arms around me and squeezing in tight to my frame. "'Bout time. I want you so badly I ache all over."

A laugh sputtered out of me. "Really? All over? That's probably from the fall!"

"I fell?"

Before I could answer, I heard a strange, cautious fake-britt styled, "Sara? Sara…Sidle? Is that you?"

I froze. Freddy! How in the hell could I have forgotten about him! I thought about ignoring him, seriously I did, but somehow…maybe it was guilt about the fact that my boyfriend had almost belted him…I couldn't do it. With a futile shrug of my shoulders, I danced Gil around until we were able to face Freddy. "Yeah, it's me," I said, simply, trying to smile.

"Fatlips," Gil muttered in my ear. "Turn it-off- off, Sara. Not in the mmmmoooddd for himmm tonight."

Well, that made two of us, I thought, but out loud said, "Be polite, dear."

"Yes, d-dear," he shot back and then snickered for good measure. He snuggled intimately into my shoulder, his nose nuzzling my neck. "Come on, Sar." He whispered a very blue suggestion in my ear and then chuckled appreciatively when I gasped and jabbed my elbow into his ribs. "What? You had no objections the last-last time we tried it!"


End file.
